Deal
by Lisa Jane
Summary: After three days chained up, there is a difference between being kindly disposed, and being desperate.
1. Part One

_A/N: I own no-one. This is set during The Return of Jafar, which my well-meaning fiancé brought home recently, and despite how bad the movie is, I found a plot bunny..._

_Enjoy._

**Deal**

It had been a few days; three, to be exact, by the small amount of sky that Jasmine could see through the high window in the top of the tower. And while she wasn't feeling kindly disposed at all towards Jafar - she was hating him more and more with each passing hour - she was beginning to feel rather desperate.

Day one

Aladdin was dead.

Jasmine was sure of this news, as Jafar had told her this news to her face, barely unable to control the wild smirk on his face, which only grew larger as the tears had welled in her eyes. He'd told her that he had walked away to the sound of the sword swiping through skin, muscle and bone, and how most satisfying that sound was.

The moment that her grief gave way to humiliating anger was his follow-up comment, that the only sound that could be more satisfying to him would be the sounds that the Princess would make to himself, and him alone.

After Jafar had left the room, no one dared to speak, and no one could've found their voices if they had even wanted to; the others too disgusted to say anything, and Jasmine not only felt disgust, but fear as well; pure, cold-blooded fear. And she wondered how long it would take for her to die if she went without food or water, as Jafar was thoughtfully not providing either.

She could only hope that his words meant something else, anything else, than what everyone thought he'd meant. But each time Jasmine thought of the words - which, between that visit and his next, were plenty - she could only realise that she would be kidding herself if he'd meant anything else.

Day two

Jasmine had looked at the others worriedly, her father, most of all. In the heat of the tower, she could see the others struggling for food and water, but she wasn't sure how long her father could hold out for. His health was already slowly slipping into decline, and he was now sweating profusely, his breathing coming in shallow gasps.

She knew that she could hold out a little longer, and when Jafar entered the tower, it was just a matter of if she wanted to.

Jasmine watched in disgust as his first order of business was to magically change her outfit, returning her into her slave girl outfit; the deep, blood red matching his own robes. She couldn't ignore the primal growl in his throat when he commented on how much better she looked in his colours, now that she was his.

She would never be his, she snapped back, and the fear began to rise in her as darkness enveloped his face, his footsteps silently making their way towards her. Despite the fear, she glared up at Jafar as he stood before her, confirming what he'd said before, and couldn't pull her head back in time as his lips crushed against her own.

Jasmine shrudded involuntarily against his touch, her lips pressed tightly together against his, not allowing him access. She'd forced herself to kiss him only weeks before, when he'd been sorcerer, but with the more pressing issue of Aladdin's safety on her mind at the time, she hadn't registered how the kiss had felt, she hadn't even wanted to think about it.

And now, she fought against him as he became more frustrated, his mouth demanding that she open her own under him. Her hands chained, Jasmine couldn't stop Jafar's hand slipping into her hair, pulling her ponytail back, causing her to whimper gently in pain.

But despite the emotion, Jafar only heard the whimper, and stepped back from her in satisfaction, his eyes dark. And without saying a word, he allowed the tip of his tongue to run over his top lip slowly, and left the room.

Day three

When Jafar came to see his 'pussycat', as he liked to call her, Jasmine was desperate. She could see her father struggling to keep his eyes open; the others were either fast asleep now or comatose; she hoped that they were asleep, but in her heart, she knew otherwise.

Jafar had a deal for her, if she wanted to hear it. Jasmine knew she had no choice, but couldn't tear her eyes away from her father, knowing that she might agree to this, believing that she was certain she knew what his deal would be.

Jasmine was not disappointed.

If she... played with him, as Jafar put it, then he would get her father, and the others, the help they would need to remain healthy. Besides, it was in her best interests to do so.

Jasmine held her father's gaze as she felt herself seriously considering, much to her breaking heart. She closed her eyes as she felt a tear slip down her cheek, her voice hoarsely asking Jafar if he promised to let them go if she agreed to his wishes. He had to promise, for the pain to be worth it.

After, he murmured. And he let her out of the chains, only to chain her to himself.

And Jasmine followed, her heart not completely believing him, but making a deal for her father and friends, with no other options left.


	2. Part Two

**Deal – Part Two**

Day four

The blood-curling screams in the distance caused the Sultan to awake.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been out for. The last time he'd been awake, it was to watch his beloved daughter follow Jafar up the stairs, on the promise that they would be free.

Well, according to the tiny window of light, that had happened in the evening. It was now creeping towards sunrise, and if Jafar had returned, he hadn't bothered to wake any of them up.

Another scream, quicklymuffled to silence.

The Sultan was frozen, holding his breath, as he waited for any noise from his daughter, fearing the worst. The silence carried on for so long that he had begun to panic mentally, wondering if she was just remaining quiet, or if she was being quietened.

He'd never been so glad to hear the shouting of his ex-vizier's name, followed by multiple expletives, before he drifted off one again.

* * *

Her voice begged him.

The Sultan stirred slowly at the sound, a hoarse female voice that sounded fearful and nervous. He felt the gentle touch of fingers against his cheek, patting his face gently. She asked him again to wake up, her voice becoming more urgent.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, his breathing heavy, and immediately wished he could close them.

Jasmine's eyes were wide as she knelt in front of him, but that was the only part of her that remained childlike. The Sultan felt tears spring to his eyes at her split lip, the dark bruise across one cheek, and he could barely look at the tiny, torn outfit that she had been forced into. It took everything in him to ignore the trails of blood running down her leg. His voice trailed off as he asked what Jafar had done to his daughter, wondering if he truly wanted to know the answer.

But she'll be alright, and she cut him off, stretching up to his shackles but unable to stop the painful hiss that escaped her lips.

The Sultan watched her with wide eyes as she unearthed a key from her fist and begun to work on the lock. He's relieved to have seen that she's escaped.

She's not escaped, he's asleep; her voice quiet, in case anyone could over hear. She stole the key, but they don't have a lot of time, for she's sure that at least the guards are after her by now.

It took several minutes to unlock her father, beads of sweat beginning to pool on both of their foreheads; his of heat and hunger, hers of pain and a very real fear of being found. Even if she couldn't escape the palace, she reasoned, then at least she could get her father out somehow.

When she was done, the Sultan could barely move his hands, attempting to flex his fingers but his joints too stiff to do so. He'd clung to his daughter's hand as she reached for him, then hesitated as Jasmine glanced at the others, who weren't waking. She trailed off nervously, asking after their health.

But they haven't woken since she left. It doesn't look like they're breathing...

She closed her aching eyes against her father's words, not wanting him to finish, not wanting to know the truth. Jasmine could cope, she could live through anything Jafar threw at her, but allowing her friends to die... she would always hate him for that.

Always, she remembered with a shiver. There was no way that she could go through this again, night after night, but she's already...

It's with a start that she noticed her father studying her, concerned, and she swallowed tightly, grabbing his hand. They hurried up the stairs to the doorway, near escape, near freedom, and it's only at the top of the stairs that the Sultan wondered why his daughter hadn't thrown on a cape of some sort to run.

And it's then that the door flew open with a bang, and Jafar's shadow rises over them; Razoul's shadow behind him wrapped around them.

So close, he commented with a smirk. His bed was becoming cold without his soon-to-be wife.

The Sultan turned to Jasmine, a mixture of horror and pain written on his face, but she refused to look at him, refused to look at anyone. She whispered faintly that it's true. She had a choice, but it was with a knife held against her throat... her agreement was the only thing keeping her alive; it was either that, or immediate death in Jafar's bedchamber.

Jasmine wished she chose the latter.

She raised her eyes to Jafar's, her voice trying to be strong but her eyes afraid, afraid of him. Let her father go; he promised.

The smirk never leaves his face. Of course.

Empty promises.

She cried out as Jafar took her by the wrist, hurling her towards him. She wanted to desperately fight him off, but she fears what he would do then, and as she's pulled up the stairs, Jasmine glanced back at her father, knowing that her last thing in the world to live for was about to disappear.

And she's the last thing the Sultan sees, before Razoul walks slowly down the stairs before him, his sword gleaming in the bleak sunlight.

_Fin_


End file.
